


i haven't forgotten you yet

by pretendimstraight



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angry Billy Hargrove, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, But he has every right to be angry!!!, Explicit Language, M/M, Steve was a big dummy and left, kinda angsty, kinda happy ending?? maybe?? hopefully??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 22:01:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14724365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pretendimstraight/pseuds/pretendimstraight
Summary: The stresses of everything 'Hawkins, Indiana' finally got to be too much for one Steve Harrington, so he drove off to start a new life, leaving behind his friends, his family, and even his heart.Is it too late for him to go back and possibly try to fix things?





	i haven't forgotten you yet

“Steve, look I know that you said you were only gonna back for the weekend or so but…” Max’s voice was quiet, like she didn’t want to be heard by anyone but him. Her voice crackling over the radio was covered with a layer of static, and it chilled him to the bone, “He left his clothes and shit, but he hasn’t been home since Thursday. I was gonna mention it at dinner yesterday, but the guys didn’t wanna make you upset or anything. I thought about calling Hop, but I thought maybe-”

It was Sunday. He was just thinking about he would have to start repacking again soon. “Don’t call Hop. I can handle it.” He said, throwing the radio on his bed almost immediately after finishing his sentence, his jacket already in hand.

He didn’t grab the bat. He wasn’t gonna need it this time. The only monster in this scenario was him.

The drive up to the quarry was silent, just him alone in the car, the radio tuned to a station that didn’t exist that filled the old Beemer with snippets of songs that he’ll never recognize, as they harmonized with the white noise that seemed to follow him everywhere he went, even after he left this piece of shit town the first time. He couldn’t be sure that he’s even going to the right place. There was no possible way that he could be sure, and yet he drove twenty miles over the speed limit with conviction. Maybe Billy wouldn’t be up there. Maybe he would be, but Steve would be too late, just like always. Maybe he wouldn’t be able to hit the brakes fast enough as he sped up there and he’d fly right over the edge.

Part of him doubted that he’d die even if he did that. There’s no way he’d be let off that easy. Billy told him once that he thought God made all the sinners pay the price for their wrongs while they were alive because letting them die would be too kind of Him.

Steve’s not sure if he believes in God, or whatever, but if that’s true than he’s still got tons of shit to pay for before he kicks the bucket.

He has to pay for the countless calls he’s received in the dead of night since he’s left, listening to Billy cough and laugh bitterly as the sound of a busy bar sounded around him.

The calls where all he heard were Billy’s quiet hiccups, and sobs as he whispered “Please come back home, Steve. I need you, baby” into the receiver so quietly that Steve’s white noise almost drowned him out.

And he especially needed to pay for the last call he had ever gotten from Billy, two and a half months ago. The one where Billy had told him that he hated Steve because he had to ‘drive past that stupid, empty mansion every day’ and still ‘live in this shitty town even though Steve was the only reason he ever wanted to stay’. Billy’s voice saying how much he hated him still rang in Steve’s ears, and he hasn’t been able to forget how angry he had sounded throughout the whole call.

The last thing he’d heard Billy say to him was, “I hate you just as much as I hate myself at this point, Harrington, ‘cause even with all the drinking, and partying, and sleeping around I’ve tried to do, I haven’t forgotten you yet. Doesn’t that make me _pathetic?_ ” before he had hung up.

No matter how willing Steve might be to accept death, he really doubted he deserved to be let off that easy.

Not surprisingly, a familiar Camaro is parked at the top of the quarry when he gets there, and he’s not sure if he’s happy to be right or fearful. He drove up farther to park beside it and the lump in the driver’s seat didn’t move an inch, laying there still as the dead. Steve’s pretty sure his heart isn’t moving either. He stepped out of his car and walked around to the Camaro’s driver’s side window, trying to take a deep breath as he knocked twice on the glass.

Billy jumped as though he was asleep, which was realistic, and Steve was extremely aware of just how fast his heart was moving now. Even through the filthy window, Billy looked the same. It’s only been a few months, but Steve had assumed he’d look so different, assumed that he’d look and feel better without him around to hold him back.

He could hear a muffled groan through the glass, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Billy’s not dead. He didn’t know why he was so worried that he was, but not knowing why didn’t stop the feeling that his heart was going to pound right out of his chest.

“Fuck off, I’ll leave in a minute,” Billy’s voice was muffled through the window, but it was clear he had no intention of actually going somewhere else anytime soon.

Steve’s eyes strayed down to his feet as he found himself to be choked up, unable to force any words out of his mouth that wouldn’t worsen this situation. It’s not like Billy would  _want_  to see him. He  _left_. He got in a car a bit over six months ago and drove all the way to New York without looking back once because he knew if he did, he’d never try moving forward again. He hasn’t forgotten the way Billy looked at him when he’d told him that he was leaving, the way the blonde boy’s eyes watered, and he didn’t even try to wipe any of his tears away. He remembers the way Billy’s fists clenched as they argued about whether or not Steve was being selfish, and he remembers how desperately he wished that Billy would swing at him.

Steve wished Billy would hit him so hard that would be marked for life and never be able to lose him. He wanted the physical pain to be just as bad as the heartbreak, but it wasn’t. Billy just stood there for a few moments before spitting out, _“I gotta admit, you were a good lay, Harrington, but you’re a pretty shitty boyfriend,”_  and walking out of Steve’s house.

Maybe he was just a shitty boyfriend after all. It’s not like he could keep anyone for longer than a week after leaving Hawkins, and after leaving Billy.

“Am I dreaming or is that you, Harrington?”

Steve couldn’t help but tense up upon hearing the old, familiar phrase ring in his ears again. Last time he heard it, he got pretty messed up a few minutes after, but now all he is worried about is how messed up the person who said it might be.

“Yeah, it’s me,” He said, looking up to meet Billy’s eyes through the window. They were dark, like he hadn’t been sleeping, or worse, and they were red-rimmed, but they were still so blue.

Billy had always compared his eyes to the color of the ocean, used to always warn Steve when he stared into them for too long because he might drown in them. Steve used to laugh and ruffle his hair, call him ‘dumb’, or ‘cheesy’, or ‘too cocky’, but now he thinks that Billy was getting at something.

It sure as hell feels like he can’t breathe.

“What, you’re not gonna tell me to not ‘cream my pants’ this time?” Billy said, voiced laced with anger and that nasty smirk that was on his face for so long back in place.

Steve wasn’t going to say that. It didn’t hole the same meaning now as it did back then, none of the same fire. He has actually had the opportunity to  _watch_ Billy cream his pants since the first time he’d said that, so the phrase didn’t seem appropriate anymore.

Steve cleared his throat and took a step back, “Can you come out of the car, so we can talk?”

“Nah, I think I’ll stay right here, pal,” Billy sneered, leaning back in his chair and making himself comfortable, “Besides, I have no business talking to you anyway. Shouldn’t you be off in New York or whatever, sucking someone else’s dick and wasting someone else’s time?”

“Listen, Billy-” He started, but was cut off by Billy’s fit hitting the dash as he suddenly sat up.

“Don’t say my name!” Billy shouted, voice sounding hurt though his eyes were blazing.

Steve kept his voice level, ignoring the way his heart ached with the want to  _make things better_ , “What? Then what the hell am I supposed to call you-”

“Don’t fucking call me anything, got it?” Billy angrily ran a hand through his hair.

He was shaking. Billy was pissed, and sad, and, _God,_  he looked so _damn_  tired. Steve just wanted to fix this, any way he could, and right now that way seemed to be making Billy listen to him somehow. “I just need-”

Billy was opening the door and facing him before Steve could even blink. He was glaring, his clothes were wrinkled, and he reeked of cigarettes and cheap beer worse than he ever had before, but he was still the most amazing thing Steve had ever seen. He jabbed an accusing finger into Steve’s chest, as his nostrils flared, “You don’t need anything from me anymore, remember? And you lost the right to call me anything at all when you decided that you wanted to do bigger and better things with your life. Bigger and better things than me.”

“Billy, it wasn’t like that,” Steve said, keeping his voice level but unable to meet the intense eye contact that Billy was apparently going for.

“Oh really, that wasn’t what it was like,  _Steve?_ ” Billy sneered, jabbing his finger in to his sternum again and, yeah, Steve thinks he sees why Billy didn’t want him to call him by his name anymore, hearing it sent a sharp pain through his chest, “What was it then,  _Steve?_  Was your hometown just too  _small_  for a king like  _you_?”

Steve couldn’t help the rush of anger going through him as Billy pushed his buttons. He always was the best at it, after all.

“I told you! This place– it was suffocating me, Billy!” He puffed his chest against Billy’s finger to see if he’d move it, but all it seemed to do was make him push harder, “I felt like I couldn’t breathe, I was always so fucking paranoid, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t take being ‘King Steve’, ‘Babysitter Steve’, and ‘Steve Harrington’ all at the same time and it hurt, okay? Everyone wanted something different out of me until I had no idea who I was anymore. It was never about you, asshole. You were one of the only good things this place ever had for me!”

“Then why didn’t you stay?” Billy’s voice broke, and when he cleared his throat it sounded more like a growl, wild and feral, “If I was so good, then why couldn’t you just suck it up and stick around until I could turn eighteen? I would have– I would’ve fucking left  _with_ you, shithead, you could have  _waited,_ and we could have run away _together._ ”

“Because I–” Steve could have stayed, he hadn’t even thought about just postponing his departure until Billy could come too. He just wanted to make sure  _he_  felt better, no matter how anybody else felt.

Billy waited for him to finish, with wet eyes and grit teeth, as Steve felt his resolve shatter. All this time, Steve had thought that he was right for leaving he needed to get out because he was suffering, and he didn’t want to bother Billy anyway, but Billy wanted him to bother him. Billy wanted to go with him. When Billy said about going with him that night, it wasn’t because Steve had guilted him into it, but because he had wanted to. He made Billy feel like shit for months, because he was a brat.

“God, I’m sorry, Billy,” Steve breathed out, his own eyes watering.

“What?” Billy sounded surprised, confused and still angry, but surprised.

“Fuck, you were right. I was being so damn  _selfish,_  Billy. I just– I wanted to feel  _better_  and I kept thinking I was dragging you down with me because I thought I was _such_  a piece of shit, but I wasn’t even that bad. Jesus,  _that me_  wasn’t horrible, but the  _me_  that thought  _leaving behind_  the  _best thing_  to ever happen to me most certainly is the biggest piece of shit to ever exist. I know I hurt you, but you didn’t deserve it, and I’m so  _fucking_  sorry,” Steve said, voice breaking as he let his shoulders drop but not his eyes.

More tears rolled down Billy’s cheeks, and Steve was so angry. He was hurting Billy again, and he just wanted to stop.

He cleared his throat and took a step back, watching Billy’s hand drop back to his side as if Steve were the only thing that was holding it up before, “You don’t have to forgive me, or anything. I came up here because Max was worried and told me that you hadn’t come home, and she thought– she figured that if anyone were going to be able to find you when you didn’t wanna be found, it was me. Maybe just go to a payphone and let her know you’re not dead or something. I’ll get out of your hair, I’m sorry-”

“No, I–” Billy said, looking down at his feet nervously before stepping towards Steve again and looking at him intently, “Is that shit still true?”

“What?” Steve said, shifting his focus from one of Billy’s eyes to the other in hope that he wouldn’t get sucked into all the blue once again.

“That shit about-” Billy paused for a second to squint his eyes a bit more, “When you said I was the best thing to ever happen to you, is that still true?”

Steve blinked once before answering quickly, “Yeah, it is. You are.”

Billy exhaled deeply, letting his eyes slip shut for a moment in something close to relief. He placed his hand over Steve’s heart, and it burned. The cold feeling Steve hasn’t been able to get rid of for six month, two weeks and four days finally melting away. “Then don’t leave again, not yet anyway. We can figure something out.”

Steve’s heart soared at the ‘we’ coming from Billy’s mouth, but the guilt he felt still gripped him tight. “You don’t have to forgive me, Billy. What I did was wrong, and I messed up.”

The left corner of Billy’s mouth curled up, turning his mouth into a sad smirk. He rubbed his thumb over Steve’s shirt, and Steve could do nothing but stare at Billy’s face, and try to convey just how sorry he was with his eyes.

“I know I don’t  _‘have to’,_  Steve, and I’m not even sure that I  _do_ forgive you. I just,” Billy sighed and patted at the pocket of his shirt to pull out a crumpled pack of cigarettes, “I know that I still love you and I’m pretty sure you still love me too, and I know that I really don’t want you to leave again, so how about we smoke the rest of this pack together sitting on the hood of your car, and we see how that goes.”

Steve should have told him that he had a flight to catch at five. He should have told him that his neighbor stopped feeding his goldfish  _yesterday_  because they were expecting Steve back  _tonight_  and the poor thing will die without him there. He should have told him that he had work tomorrow morning and that he was already on thin ice with his boss because of all the nights he slept in, dreaming of Billy’s hand in his own again. He should have  _at least_  made sure Billy called Max as soon as possible.

Instead, he pulled Billy’s old lighter that he’s carried around since it had been had given him on their nine-month anniversary, the _‘SH+BH’_ he’d wrote back then barely recognizable on the bottom, out of his pocket and said, “Sounds good to me.”

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys this was an answer to a prompt on my tumblr (@pretendimstraight) that i was actually proud of, so i decided to post it here! i hope you guys like it, and maybe if you do you could leave me a comment or something!! those are always appreciated <3


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